Maiga slid open the hatch and flicked the light switch inside. Wixa knelt down and leaned forward, right into the hatch. Fearing she'd overbalance, Maiga reached out, ready to grab a handful of the back of her shirt.

"Room?" Wixa sat up again, laughing. "I see respectable rooms everywhere organising official protests about having that tiny closet included in the category of rooms." She swung her legs around and into the hatch. "Okay, let's take a look anyway. It's not as if I'm claustrophobic."

She climbed down the ladder, fast and surefooted and Maiga followed her a moment later. After Wixa checked over the engine room's panels, they opened the door into the cargo hold. Aside from a couple of boxes of supplies for their journey, the space was empty.

Wixa hugged herself and rubbed her arms. "Cold in here."

"No sense in heating it," Maiga said. "Not to much above survivable anyway."

"Suppose not. You know, we missed a trick," Wixa said. "We should have brought something with us to trade instead of travelling empty. Ah well, there's always next time."

Next time? Maiga frowned at her. No, there's no next time. This is a one-time deal.

"I'm going back to the cockpit. I want to monitor the scanners."

"Good idea," Wixa agreed. "We don't know what's lurking out there."

~o~

Whatever might have been lurking it kept on lurking and they reached Cetlin Three sixty-eight hours after leaving Hollow Jimmy. After touchdown, Maiga walked back into the sleeping quarters, took her bag from the drawers under the bunks and took out a rifle.

Though a compact, even stubby, piece, the sight of the rifle made Wixa's eyes widen when Maiga emerged with it nestled in her arms.

"You, er, think you'll need that?"

"I hope not, but it's best to be prepared. Let's go."

They had landed on an airfield right on the former military supply base and the number of humans they saw as they walked towards the storage depots on the base surprised Maiga.

"There's a lot of people here."

"I guess they've started to band together for safety." Wixa looked around at them too. "And maybe buy transport elsewhere. Hey, we could take a passenger."

"I don't think so." Maiga cased the area as they walked, her old habits still deeply ingrained. Some of the buildings, that once held weapons and other military supplies, now housed people. Most of them wore a combination of their old military uniforms and civilian clothes and all of them wore tense looks, even here, surrounded by their fellow humans. They gave the sky nervous glances, waiting for death to drop out of it.

Some buildings weren't converted to barracks. One that looked like it might once have been a guardhouse was now a bar. Music and laughter poured out as they passed. Warm lights glowed in the dimness as night began to fall.

"Let's have a drink after we make the deal," Wixa suggested.

"We can have a drink back on the station."

"True. But, coffee isn't the only valuable commodity we could pick up around here. I'll bet the locals have all kinds of gossip that hasn't reached Hollow Jimmy yet."

That was a good point. And Wixa wasn't the only one who wanted to pick up gossip. If anyone around here knew about the fleet, especially its likely location, then Maiga wanted to hear that.

"Okay. After we make the deal."

~o~

Two years ago if Maiga had caught a quartermaster selling military supplies for his own profit, she'd have shot him herself.

Of course, that was a long time ago. Before her life changed. Before she'd opened the door of what was meant to be an empty storage room, and found the two stowaways hiding there. Before Ilyan had stood up, smiled at her, and said, "I suppose I should explain."

Now she stood behind Wixa, the rifle cradled, while Wixa negotiated with an ex-quartermaster for the sixty crates of coffee beans. Of course, he now wanted to charge a higher price than the one he'd agreed before they left Hollow Jimmy. Wixa of course wanted to pay a lower price and the two haggled and argued fiercely.

Maiga ignored the negotiation. Wixa could handle that better than she could. She watched the quartermaster's guards. Big, young guys, heavily muscled, a couple of grunts for sure. They stood at the door through to the warehouse, where the coffee and who knows what other goods lay. One of them nodded to Maiga when he caught her eye. An acknowledgement that we're all just doing our jobs here and nobody wants any trouble.

At last, Wixa and the quartermaster settled on a price and shook on it. He stood up, revealing that he'd let his personal discipline slip a bit and had started to develop a paunch he'd never have got away with in the old days. In a few months he'd be a fat, sleek merchant of the kind Maiga had read about it ancient stories and now seen on Hollow Jimmy.

"Come on then." He waved a hand at the door his men guarded. "Through here."

They followed him into the warehouse, where stacks of crates loomed from shelving units in the dim light. Now and again, a faint whiff of decay wafted by as they passed; from perishables he hadn't managed to move soon enough.

However, their coffee beans, vacuum-sealed in clear plastic crates, were fine. Wixa inspected them, bluffing that she knew what she was doing.

"The price includes transporting them to our ship?" She asked.

"Sure. And I'll loan you a couple of strapping lads to load it, thrown in." He grinned. "Just for the pleasure of doing business with you lovely ladies."

Maiga frowned when Wixa laughed and gave him a friendly slap on the arm. Watch it. These infantry types don't take much encouraging.

"Okay, lads," the quartermaster said to his men. "Let's get it loaded."

When they had a truck loaded with the coffee beans, Maiga and Wixa sat in the back perched on the crates, while the 'strapping lads' drove them to the airfield. The lads started heaving the crates into the hold, stacking them up a little haphazardly for Maiga's liking. She pushed them into neat rows and strapped them down to the moorings on the floor and walls.

Wixa 'supervised', which to Maiga's eyes meant ogling the muscular young men and exchanging flirtatious banter. Careful, careful, careful. We're alone out here. Vulnerable. There's no higher authority any more. Nobody to complain to if anybody gets... cheeky.

Once the truck was empty and the hold full, the lads drove off. Maiga and Wixa closed up the cargo hatch that acted as a ramp when open, and made a final check that the crates were all secured.

"Right," Wixa said, "let's get that drink. And some food. Something fresh."

Maiga felt less keen now. Night blanketed the base, the airfield especially black. Lights twinkled from the buildings, and though they looked inviting, the walk to them didn't. But she still had the rifle. Anyway, they were all humans here.

So they walked through the darkness, back to the buildings. The scent of cooking drifted on the night air and that changed Maiga's mind. Three days of eating the reheated or reconstituted meals that were all the Friss's limited cooking facilities allowed for had left them both hungry for some real food. Roasted, fried, sautéed... anything but reheated.

They found what had once had been the officer's mess and was now an eatery. Less lively than a couple of the places they'd passed, which suited Maiga just fine. Old habits again. There may be nobody to enforce it, but the officers and other ranks division persisted. She slung her rifle on her back and followed Wixa inside.

Men and women sat around the long communal tables, talking, eating and drinking, but nobody was drunk or raucous. Maiga and Wixa got curious looks and a few polite nods as they went in.

They bought drinks and food at the counter and sat at one of the long tables. The communal dining meant they could join some of the other patrons, without seeming to intrude. They could listen to them, without obvious eavesdropping, and could quite naturally become part of their conversation.

"Did you just arrive?" A young woman lieutenant asked Maiga when passing her the salt from down the table. She wore a Marine Corps jacket, the insignia still on it. One of my lot, Maiga thought and smiled at the girl.

"Just passing through."

"Doing some trading," Wixa said. "Then we're heading back home to Hollow Jimmy." That generated some interest, as the others at the table started swapping tales of outrageous adventures while on leave on Hollow Jimmy. Some added that they were thinking of heading there, for safety.

"The Klaff don't let military ships anywhere in the sector," Wixa said, answering a question from one of them. "Though the Muaan Qacia patrols the sector border, and they sometimes harass any human owned ships crossing it."

"Damn lizards," a man said, scowling. A murmur of agreement went around the table.

"But, the Big Four know that the Klaff could cripple them with economic sanctions if they disrupt trade. So, yeah, it is a safe haven for us."

Maiga stayed quiet for most of the chat, but when the conversation stilled for a moment she spoke up.

"Have any of you heard about this fleet of surviving ships?"

Wixa gave Maiga a surprised look, which seemed to turn to worry a moment later. What's her problem? It's not a sensitive topic, is it?

"Yeah," a small man, with a deeper voice than he looked like he should have, nodded. His clothes were those of a starship officer, though his insignia was gone. "Last I heard they were in the Aflan system. Somebody said a transport ship went down on a moon there, during the fighting. But with a lot of survivors."

Aflan. Maiga's heart sank. That was a long way. For her little ship to reach Aflan would take months. She'd been prepared for a long journey, but not that long, especially not in such a small, vulnerable ship. And the fleet wouldn't be sitting there waiting for her. They'd be moving on, maybe even further away.

"You know," the young marine said, "I've heard they don't have a commander running that fleet, but some kind of... group leadership. And the people in the ships, they vote for them." Her voice was tinged with amazement.

"Ruling Committee," the deep-voiced officer said. "Or just the Committee. That's what I've heard they're called."

"Weird," someone else muttered.

"They must be heading to Hollow Jimmy at some point," Maiga said, "I mean if they're looking for humans, there's a lot of us there."

Shrugs and mutters of assent came from the other officers. They agreed. But it could be a long time, Maiga thought. Such a long time.

"If you're from H.J. then you must have heard about the Trebuchet."

Maiga looked up. A young man had spoken. His clothes were all civilian, impossible to say what service branch he might have been in.

"The Trebuchet?" Maiga didn't know what he meant. A ship perhaps?

"You mean Bara?" Wixa said.

"Who?" Maiga asked.

"The Trebuchet's a surviving ship," the young man said. "Supposed to be captained by an officer named Bara." His voice hushed as he spoke, the others leaned in closer, hanging on his words. "I've heard the story that even though the Chia caught the ship and ripped its weapons out, somehow they got hold of new ones, and started going after Big Four ships."

"I've heard of her," Wixa said. "Operating near the Klaff's sector." She shrugged. "She won't last long. The lizards will hunt her down and they won't just rip out the guns."

"Well, I hope she takes a good few of the bastards with her before that happens," the young marine said. This time the rest of the table didn't murmur their agreement. They almost cheered.